“Okay folks, take five,” Dorian said, looking peevish.
Oh dear god, how had I managed to actuallyforgetabout Dorian and the entire film crew?
Fifteen minutes of humiliating fame, here I come. Shit.
My entire job depended on my ability tonotbe noticed. I was supposed to blend into the background while I kept the spotlight where it belonged—on the beautiful couple celebrating their special day. At no point was iteversupposed to be about me. But something about Drew Ashford made me forget all of that.
I walked away with Drew close behind me. “We need to talk,” he said in a low voice.
“Agreed,” I said, letting him lead the way into a private room off the kitchen.
“We—” he started to say, but I held a hand up, cutting him off.
“Turn off your mic.”
He frowned. “There aren’t any cameras in here.”
“Doesn’t stop the mics from recording audio,” I pointed out. “Turn itoff.” Matching actions to my words, I flipped the switch on mine.
He frowned at me. “How do I…”
With a herculean effort, I managed to keep from rolling my eyes. “The switch is on the battery pack.”
“Battery pack?” he repeated, looking even more confused.
Lord, save me from Luddites.“Here, let me…” I stepped in close, reaching for the battery pack they’d clipped to his waist. He…wow, he smelled good. Like,reallygood. Distractingly good. And I couldn’t afford any distractions.
Click.
I flipped the switch and stepped back hurriedly, hoping I wasn’t blushing.
He cleared his throat. “Listen, that was bad form on both of our parts.”
“I agree,” I said immediately. He blinked at me for a beat, as if my agreement was the last thing he’d expected.
“Well…good. We need to be on the same page about this. We can’t let our issues with each other cloud the event,” he continued.
“Yes, absolutely.”
“The show isn’t supposed to be about us, and frankly, the less I have a camera on me, the happier I’ll be.”
“I feel exactly the same way,” I replied.
“So you agree that you were out of line with what you said?”
Now just wait a minute…“If you’ll agree thatyouwere out of line implying that I’m some kind of cut-rate hack who can’t be trusted not to break the good china or steal the silver spoons,” I responded sweetly.
“So you think you acted professionally when you threw that question about the wedding planner in my face?” he retorted.
“Well, maybeyoushouldn’t have questioned my expertise.”
“And maybeyoushouldn’t have walked all over your groom’s choice of appetizer.”
“Andyou—” I inhaled to go into another rant, and it was only when the inhale pulled in that sweet-spicy scent that I realized I’d somehow gotten up in his face again. Damn it,howdid that keep happening?
I took a firm step back.
“The couple will make their own decisions about the menu,” he said, through gritted teeth. “If they ask either one of us for our opinions we’ll give them, but we’ll both let them decide for themselves. Agreed?”
